Colours of Memory
by Cyn V
Summary: A take on Minato's childhood. - Not quite canon, but close enough.
1. Crimson

**Disclaimer: _Naruto_ (c) Kishimoto and probably some other Japanese companies whose names I don't know.  
A/N: Kindly forgive the cliché. Enjoy!**

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**01: Crimson**

The plumes of black smoke rose over the tree tops in the distance, obscuring the afternoon sun and casting a sickly yellow shadow over the land. They were hard to miss, even if the squad of Konoha ninjas had somehow failed to pick up on the smell of burnt on the forest road.

They were just returning from a secret reconnaissance mission on a new ninja village that had settled itself a bit too close to the borders of Fire Country for Konoha to ignore. The relations between the various ninja villages were always strained at best, but tensions had been rising to such especially critical levels in recent times that it was only a matter of time until war broke out.

Technically, the team wasn't inside Fire Country yet, and as such had no legitimate right to investigate the suspicious forest fire, but Jiraiya - the more travelled of the three - had a vague recollection of a small settlement that appeared to be close to the origin of the smoke, so despite their weariness after the hard mission, they decided to look into it anyway.

They stealthily picked their way across the strip of no-man's-land that separated Fire from River Country, making sure they didn't leave any evidence of their passage and that they weren't being watched. The three could not risk starting a confrontation with other ninja, for that might give the other countries the excuse they had been waiting for to justify war. However, the three were fairly confident there was no reason why an insignificant civilian village would be attacked so brutally to the point that the smoke would be seen for miles.

Following Jiraiya's lead, they soon made it to what was left of the tiny settlement and discovered that it was indeed the source of the smoke and a terrible sight to behold.

The torn bodies of the townspeople lay abandoned and exposed to the elements on the lifeless one-street village. The once flourishing community had been reduced to a silent graveyard of blackened stone and of the surrounding farms that so many had nurtured with their daily sweat, only black coal remained. As for their tenders, some looked like they had been struck from behind while trying to escape the inferno, while others had been fully caught by the fire, charred to the point where nothing but their final expression of wide-open horror could be recognised. None of the small schist houses had been left standing, hiding even more possible scenes of horror beneath their ruins.

Although none of them could see any weapons, footprints or any other sign that a ninja had been anywhere in that wreck of a village or the surrounding plains recently, all three knew that no one else could have caused that kind of destruction. The air was still blazing and the pungent smell of burnt flesh was inescapable - a fire of that magnitude would never have occurred naturally in the middle of winter and it would take more than the average person to subdue a whole village, even one as small as this one.

"Look for survivors," Tsunade told her teammates, even as she neared the body of a middle-aged man lying on a pool of blood. She was operating under a healer's mindset, concentrating on what might still be saved rather than the perpetrators. She wasn't sure, though, if her companions' priorities would be the same.

She felt for a pulse, but quickly withdrew her fingers. They came back covered in reddish soot and she growled at the back of her throat, angered by the senseless slaughter around her.

Orochimaru wasn't having much luck either, although he limited his search to an overall glance over whatever people he found that looked half-way whole. If they weren't moving, it was a sure bet that smoke inhalation had gotten to them before he did.

Jiraiya, on the other hand, had committed himself to the task, feeling a personal connection to the people he had met during his travels. It was likely that no one would have so much as remembered him from that brief visit, but he couln't help but feel that he should have been aware of the danger that might have been targeting the peaceful village even then.

He was digging anxiously through the ruins of the houses and shouting calls in case there were any survivors in hearing range. All thoughts of keeping their presence a secret were long gone.

He was starting to believe that they had arrived too late to make any difference, when a rock close-by moved as if on its own, revealing a much too small bloodied hand. The white-haired ninja did not hesitate to make his way over and, in no time, had uncovered an arm to go with that hand, then a head. As he called out to Tsunade, he found himself the recipient of a very grateful gaze coming from the two huge sky-blue eyes of a small three-year-old.

"My legs... they're stuck..." he rasped.

"Hush, kid," he ordered immediately, the tiny drop of blood the child had coughed up while gulping for fresh air tugging at his heartstrings. "Don't worry, we'll get you out."

Jiraiya was a very laidback person by nature and his easy-going love for the pleasures of life often conflicted with the life-or-death responsibilities of his chosen profession, but his resolve could be as hard as tempered steel when kindled. One look at the pained-looking eyes that spoke of a desperate struggle to stay alive, despite their difficulty in zeroing in on the face of his rescuer, and his mind was set. He made a promise:

"You'll be fine, kid. What's your name?"

"Minato," was the soft reply.

Jiraiya repeated the name and plastered a reassuring smile on his face as he continued to remove the debris trapping the boy, all the while forcing himself to ignore the whimpers that erupted every time he shifted something.

Meanwhile, Tsunade had arrived and was quick to start working on one of her medical techniques, her hands glowing green as she assessed her patient's condition. Her brows furrowed a bit deeper with each area her hands swept over, until she cut off all chakra flow to her hands and shot her teammate a grim shake of the head from where the boy could not see her.

"No! Don't give up on him!" was the immediate response. "You have to do what you can, Tsunade. He's just a little kid..." Jiraiya pleaded at the same time he redoubled his efforts to free the little child with the wide soulful eyes.

"Jiraiya..." she paused, not wanting to have this discussion in front of the hurting child. She expertly searched through her pouch of medical supplies and produced a thin packet. Ripping it open with her teeth, she extracted a piece of cloth and pressed it against the child's nose. Blue eyes focused on her briefly in panic before drooping closed. A demanding shout immediately came from the direction of her teammate.

"What are you doing?!"

"Calm down!" Tsunade exclaimed in irritation. "I put him out because of the pain. Now listen to me! His injuries are too extensive. He would not live much longer, even if I was somehow able to give him the treatment he needs in a proper facility. Let him go, Jiraiya. With the dosage of anaesthetic I just gave him, he'll be unconscious when it happens. Now come on, there might still be people out there who actually have a chance of surviving in need of our help," she finished, getting up and looking around in a circle as she said it.

"No," the toad summoner spoke with conviction. Tsunade turned back towards him at once, surprised by the serious tone of his voice. "Why does he have to die, Tsunade? What did he do to deserve this fate?"

Tsunade took in the determination and anguish in her teammate's eyes. Her experience as a medic had taught her long ago that life did not look upon the deserving any differently than on the rest, and sometimes, no matter what one did or hoped for, there was nothing that could be done to save a person. Unfortunately, not only did Jiraiya lack that training, but it was completely against his character to keep himself so detached from his surroundings - the man wore his heart on his sleeve.

"Let him go, Jiraiya," she cautioned once more. "Let's go see if Orochimaru has had better luck than us."

"Tsunade!" he exclaimed. "You can't stand there and do nothing! You're the only one who can help him. You're the only one here with the power to keep him from having that kind of pointless death. He hasn't had the chance to grow up yet. Please, Tsunade... I promised him."

It was rare the occasion when Jiraiya spoke so seriously, so it was obvious how deeply the situation was affecting him.

Tsunade looked down at the passed out child. He had such big eyes... like her little brother Nawaki used to have. She had lost him recently - still just a genin - and a day had not gone by since where she didn't ask herself whether there had been something more she could have done for him, anything that might have saved his life. The unsatisfying answers she kept coming to always left her depressed and wishing there was some way she could go back in time and do that little extra bit more that would miraculously save the day. The sparkle in his expressive eyes and the ever-present flush on the cheeks which he had adamantly refused to call "cute" still haunted her.

And suddenly, she found that it was already too late. Her mind had made the decision for her while she had been daydreaming about the past: she couldn't do it anymore. She could not stand aside and let death take yet another person who was simply too young to go. Her eyes gained a fiery glint as she realized she was determined to fight for this one with tooth and nail, and win.

"All right, Jiraiya, move aside. I'm going to need some room..."


	2. Ivory

**02: Ivory**

Minato woke up in a softly lit room, lying on a tall bed and with a terrible taste in his mouth. He felt like he had not slept at all - he was all drowsy and tired - and at the same time like he had slept too much. His blond hair was heavy and clumpy, sticking to his face, and his pyjamas sweaty. On top of that, his mind was hazy, like there was something making it difficult for him to think.

It took him a few minutes to get over his discomfort, but once he did, the three-year-old took a good look at the small room he was in. The white and wood-panelled walls were completely unfamiliar and the metallic, utilitarian furniture felt cold and uninviting. Even the slim view he had of tall buildings and narrow streets outside the window was strange. It looked nothing like home and that scared him more than anything.

The sudden rush of fear cleared the fog obscuring his thoughts and made him remember some of the last moments before he had passed out. There had been screaming coming from the street and his father had told him and his mother to stay inside while he went to see what was going on. But the door had been slammed open before he could get out and... and... then there had been pain.

That was all he could really remember. He thought that there might have been someone else there who had talked to him at some point, but the details were just out of reach.

He wondered if his parents were in this strange place too and threw off his covers to get out of bed. He would have gone out the door to find them if a searing pain spreading from his legs as soon as he tried to move them hadn't nearly caused him to faint again.

He cried out loud without realising it and the door was immediately thrust open from the outside. It was the same thing that had happened as when his father had tried to leave the house only for bad things to come in, and the parallels did not end there. A single man wearing black clothes and white armour and a short sword attached to his back stepped inside and walked over to him. Minato took one look at his face and panicked - he tried to crawl off the bed to put something between himself and that masked man, but not only did his legs hurt like a thousand needles were prodding him from the inside, they were strapped in place. Minato curled in on himself to get as far away from the man as he could and shut his eyes tightly, hoping the faceless demon wouldn't hurt him.

It wasn't until then, until he had stopped his frantic movements, that he realised that the masked man knew his name and was trying to talk to him.

"Kid - Minato - relax, no one's going to hurt you," he was saying. The young blond lifted his head the strict minimum that would allow him to peek at the man and saw that he had taken his mask off and was looking a bit frightened himself.

Deciding to trust this stranger - his eyes were dark brown, almost black, so different from Minato's -, he straightened up and settled back on his bed.

"That's right, you don't need to be afraid," the man said almost gently and, in his youth, Minato didn't catch how unaccustomed to producing the tone that voice was. The masked man's expression had also been replaced by a more collected one, faster than what would have been considered natural, now that Minato had calmed down. "You're in Konoha, do you know where that is?"

"Who are you?" the three-year-old asked in turn, disregarding the stranger's question and nervously eyeing the mask on his hands.

The ANBU, of course, noticed the direction of the stare and showed the painted animal face to the boy.

"You can call me Tiger. See? Because of the mask." The ninja pointed out the red stripes and the small triangular ears on the white mask and tried to pass it to the boy. It was obvious it was the source of his discomfort - whoever had attacked his village must have been wearing them too, for the little blond to react so violently - so he thought that if the boy was allowed to handle the object and see for himself that it was harmless, it might ease his tension and fear.

Minato would have none of it, however, and recoiled from the mask that was presented to him as best as he could. The ANBU quickly took the hint and put it away.

"Mister Tiger, are my parents here?" the question came soon after.

They were not, the ANBU knew. Out of everyone who had inhabited that village, Minato had been the only one to survive the attack - and even then there had been moments when it seemed like the medics would lose him. Tsunade of the Three had done an admirable job stabilizing his condition to the point where he could be brought to Konoha, but his injuries had still been severe, especially for his underdeveloped three-year-old body.

As a ninja, death did not phase Tiger, but he could not give a ninja's answer to the little kid looking at him with such hopeful, clear eyes. Luckily, he did not have to.

His partner had left to fetch Tsunade when they had heard the boy's scream and now it seemed that they had returned. Tiger winked at him in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture and turned away from the door to hide his face as he put on his mask.

Minato wasn't happy about the mask's return, but he was even more aggravated by the arrival of the second ANBU. He looked pleadingly at Tiger, thinking that his friendly attitude had been nothing but a ruse and that now that the other members of his group were there they would do to him the same that... the same that had happened at his house before - whatever it was, all Minato knew was that it was very bad and he did not want to go through it again.

Tiger moved over to stand at the foot of the bed, strategically placing himself in front of the window while his partner covered the door - but all Minato knew was that he was in plain sight and at a distance that was sufficiently far away yet close enough to provide safety, so he was reassured.

Until the bed sheets flew up and blocked his sight. The youth turned to the side to see who had pulled them and found a pretty lady with two blonde pigtails looking over his legs with a disapproving frown. Before Minato could ask her a thing, she gave one of the straps that were tying him in place a firm pull. The action applied tension on his legs, ensuring that they were stretched to their fullest and immobile, but all the three-year-old cared about was that it hurt.

He cried out because of the pain, but that got him little sympathy from the pretty lady.

"If you don't want to do that a next time, stop trying to move your legs," she told him sternly. She didn't say anything else for another moment, giving him time to get used to the new tug on his legs. When she saw Minato quietening down, she asked in a completely different tone: "how are you feeling, kid?"

"My legs hurt." His simple reply was met with a chuckle.

"I kind of figured that - they're broken. I'm Tsunade and I'm a medic. Do you have any headaches? Do you feel cold?"

Minato shook his head negatively and shot a glance at the second, silent, ANBU.

"Where are my parents?" the question rose up again. Tsunade's all business expression softened a degree before she replied.

"They're dead. You were the only one who made it out of the attack."

Tiger frowned slightly in disapproval, expression unseen behind his white, red-striped mask. For someone who used to have a little brother she adored, Tsunade sure was rubbish at dealing with kids. Fortunately, Minato seemed to be taking the news well enough - at least until he overcame his shock, he was.

"Do you remember anything of what happened before you got here?" Tsunade asked.

Minato had gone very still, eyes fixed on some unseen point on the bedspread. It seemed to him like the slug summoner's question was coming from a very long distance away and he dazedly shook his head.

"Are you sure?" she insisted. "We found you buried under some rubble - do you remember how that happened? Did you see someone attack your house?"

The little blond's head shot up and his wide blue eyes darted in the unknown ANBU's direction, but he didn't say anything. It was all the confirmation Tiger needed, though.

The child had been unreasonably afraid of his mask from the moment he had laid eyes on it and now he had clearly looked at it when the attack was mentioned. There was little room for doubt, even if Minato did not consciously remember or did not want to talk about the event.

"Lady Tsunade," the ANBU smoothly intervened, "if I may?"

Tsunade stepped aside to give him room and watched as he produced a blank piece of paper and a pencil from his pouch. He drew something on it that Tsunade could not see because of the angle and showed it to the small blond.

"Have you ever seen this symbol before, Minato?"

If possible, Tiger was sure Minato's eyes would have widened further. The kid was reacting with similar agitation as the first time he had seen the ANBU masks. If Tsunade had not fastened the restraints on his legs, Tiger had no doubt that the kid would be struggling to escape this symbol as well.

"A man broke down the door and walked into the house. He had that on his neck!" the three-year-old shouted. The ANBU then turned his drawing towards Tsunade and his partner.

"Rock," Tsunade said it like the word left a foul taste that had to be spat out, and as if to prove how strong her revulsion was, even her killing intent flared for an instant. "Well, you just worry about getting better, ok, Minato? Whatever it was those bastards wanted from your village, they won't dare to come here. You're safe, do you understand?"

Minato nodded automatically, too surprised and afraid of the crazy lady's outburst to even consider denying her anything.

"You're in Konoha, now. Welcome to your new home, kid."


End file.
